One Last Ride
by Catri Howlman-Carthaki spy
Summary: They aren't Careers exactly, but they weren't kidding around when they volunteered. A companion to "Victor". AU.


**Title:** One Last Ride  
**Author:** catty-the-spy  
**Pairing(s):** Katniss/Peeta, mentioned OC/OC, mostly gen  
**Warnings:** canon typical violence, vague allusions to child abuse, character death, pregnancy, au  
**Notes:** In the same AU as and takes place during Victor. First posted on LJ/DW and AO3

* * *

Don is big. Muscled. Katniss wasn't expecting anyone to volunteer, but when she sees him standing on the platform she isn't really surprised he'd do it. When he and the girl, Janna, shake hands, Katniss can see a history there. They know each other.

On the train, he and Janna are all smiles and nudges, friends.

"We volunteered so no kid would have to get reaped," he says. "Me and Janna-"

"Janna and I," Effie corrects from the other side of the car.

"Me and Janna," Don says, like he hadn't been interrupted, "we were little when you were reaped, and it was…" he whistled. "It was wild. Anyway, next year, Markis happened, and I thought, some of the other districts have careers. They volunteer, and no little kid has to get hurt. So we thought…"

"_He_ thought," Janna corrects, "that maybe someone should train up just in case. Take the fall so no one else has to. He mentioned it to me, and we got together."

This kind of altruism isn't common in District Twelve. Katniss can't help but eye them with suspicion, unable to forget the careers in her own games. Peeta smiles at them though, all compassion and kindness when Janna says "I have a little sister, too."

"If it works, we can find some other kids who are interested. No one who's in it for kicks; just someone who'll step up if an under sixteen get's reaped."

"Why under sixteen?" Katniss asks, trying to keep hostility out of her voice.

Don shrugs. "You make it that far? You're pretty much an adult."

Don is fit and even a bit bulky. It's clear he profited from District Twelve's current success. Katniss can't fault him for that. District Twelve toes the line and the food comes rolling in. Katniss can see the point of it, even if just the thought makes her sick.

Janna is all slim lines and soft curves, but she's well defined. She's pretty, but not a bombshell. A little help from her stylists, and the capitol will fall in love with her.

Janna is smaller than Don. Katniss tilts her head to the side, thinks maybe they can work them as a team. A brother sister thing, or maybe a couple. They can definitely work the friend angle.

It's too early to work out a gimmick. Katniss gets herself a drink and brings Peeta one too, slides her arm across his shoulders as she sits back down.

Katniss takes a larger swallow than is really polite and gives them a pointed look. "What can you do?"

* * *

The Capitol hasn't changed a bit since Katniss last saw it. Too bright, too loud, too much. Katniss hooks Peeta's arm in hers, feels her head rise higher without even really thinking about it. She hates the person she is here. She doesn't know if she'll stop. The collar on her shirt feels like it's choking her.

She resists the urge to tug on her vest, and she and Peeta start walking at the same time. She needs to see what Cinna will do to Don and Janna, needs to watch them talk a little more before she and Peeta can work together on an image for them.

Don and Janna look overwhelmed. Good. The crowds can soak in their wide eyes and clasped hands for now. They can tell some of the truth during their interviews, about how they didn't want any little kids in the arena. It'll sound good to sponsors; that's always been part of Twelve's backwoods charm.

She doesn't realize she's frowning until Peeta tugs gently on her arm.

"What is it?" he whispers, lips brushing against her ear.

To any observer, it will look like he just said something romantic. Katniss plays along, leaning into him. "Just trying to figure out our plan. I need to see the other tributes in training."

"It'll happen," he says, and kisses her cheek. He doesn't tell her not to worry. Instead, he smiles at her. "We'll figure it out."

She makes herself smile back at him. While the tributes are being prepped, they'll mingle with other victors, a brief interlude before deals begin. Katniss considers getting drunk like so many of the others do, but she knows she can't. She doesn't want to deal with the tributes hung-over. Maybe, when this year's tributes are dead, she can let herself indulge. It might even help them next year, might keep her relevant to sponsors. The girl on fire running wild in the city.

She shakes the idea out of her head.

"We'll be okay," says Peeta.

"Let's go," she says, Capitol accent coloring her voice. "We don't want to keep anyone waiting."

* * *

Days later, when Katniss is dreaming of growing out her body hair and thinking of allying with Districts Three and Eleven, Peeta comes to her with Janna in tow.

Janna's looking everywhere but at her – the floors, the walls. Katniss knows the back of Peeta's head isn't that interesting.

It's late. Janna should be sleeping, not hovering in Peeta's shadow, pale and unsure. Her dark hair is tangled in front of her face; she'll regret that when the prep team gets to her again.

"There's something Janna has to say." Peeta pushes the girl forward, reassuring hand on the small of her back. Katniss can feel her heart sinking.

Janna fidgets. It's out of character for her.

"What is it?" Katniss snaps. She just wants to go to bed and wash the make up from her face.

Janna curls in on herself. "I'm pregnant."

"You're _what_?"

"Pregnant."

"Since when? Why on _earth_ did you volunteer?"

"She wasn't sure until today," Peeta says, ever the mediator. Katniss hates how calm he is about it, that gentle disappointed face. "She came straight to me when she found out."

"I'm sorry," Janna says, while Katniss swears. She's found her nerve again, now that the worst part is over. Perhaps she was afraid of Katniss hitting her. "I don't like it either. I thought maybe one of you would know what to do." She runs her hands through her hair, tangling it further, and scowls. "I shouldn't have let him talk me into it, but it's too late to complain about it. It's…"

"Don's," Katniss says, thinking quickly.

Janna frowns. "What? No, it's not his, it's-"

"Don's," Katniss says firmly. "Find a way to bring it up during your interview; if you can't, mention it in the arena."

It's stupid, a pregnant teenager in the arena. None of them have any idea how far along she might be. Katniss knows she's grinding her teeth through the entire conversation. It there was any safe way to take care of it Katniss would make sure Janna went through with it, but there wasn't, so they'd have to make do.

Don and Janna stick together when they train. Katniss made sure from day one that they spent plenty of time at the edible plants station, and now she was especially glad she had. Nothing about their training changes. Maybe Janna will take a bad hit and their problem would be dealt with before she entered the arena, but Katniss doesn't get her hopes up.

She lets Peeta coach them for their interviews. Janna goes on stage sparkling. Her skin is dark already, but the black dress has enough jewels to blind, and there are gems around her eyes.

Caesar asks about her family, and she talks about her sisters and her cousins. She talks about being close to Don.

Earlier, she'd told Katniss, "Don and I always knew how it'd go. We'd stick together until the end, and then…" she shrugged. "We'd fight it out. The two of us at odds after everything? It'd make a great show. And in the end, one of us will kill the other, and we'll be okay. As long as it's us, it's okay."

In front of the audience, she rests a hand on her stomach. "Don and I will stick together for as long as we can, for the baby's sake."

The reaction is everything Katniss hoped it would be.

Don rolls with it without a hitch, reframing their friendship in romantic terms.

"When it comes to Janna and I? I'd gladly kill myself for her."

It isn't even a lie.

Katniss tries not to long for any outcome, but if the game makers don't sabotage them, Don and Janna might have a chance.

* * *

In the fight at the cornucopia, Janna slices a boy's head clean off while Don grabs two bags. When Janna downs another tribute without flinching, two weapons in hand, Katniss can't help but feel hope bloom in her chest.

* * *

The two reaped are thirteen and fifteen. Janna doesn't hesitate, and neither does Don. They'd talked about this a lot, the odds of them going into the arena together. She shakes hands with him in front of the entire district and smiles, both excited and scared.

"Here we go."

All of her siblings come to visit her before she goes. She hugs them all, accepts the hair clip that her mother brings her as a token, reassures them all. When their time is up, she grabs her youngest sister and leans down to whisper in her ear.

"Keep practicing. Tell Jake and Em."

Jake and Em are two other kids who'd expressed interest in her and Don's plan. Janna had been training them, just in case she and Don aged out before they were needed. Nothing to worry about now; the three of these kids – Jake, Em, and Krissy – will have another year to prepare.

Her boyfriend sees her next. Ex-boyfriend. Even though she's still mad at him she doesn't avoid his kiss. If she dies in the Games, she'd rather go with one last kiss from him. He may be an idiot, but he was a damn good kisser.

"Cut 'em to ribbons," he breathes into her mouth, holding her tight.

He's an idiot, and an asshole, but he does care. She promises with another kiss.

After that, there's no one else to see her. Don's her best friend, and he's coming along for the ride. She's almost glad he's coming with her; she's going to need someone she can trust at her back.

The train is breath taking. Katniss is as fierce in person as she looks from afar. Janna can't help but admire her. It's thanks to Katniss and the rewards she and her husband have earned them that Janna and Don had plenty of food, that Janna's sisters always had full bellies and she could avoid having them take out any tesserae.

Janna saw Peeta often, in his family's bakery and around town. He'd been brushed up as much as Katniss for the reaping; they both look like beautiful statues instead of people.

Janna wonders what it'd be like to live in Victor's Village, to not have her sisters sleeping on top of her. If she and Don have any luck, she'll find out.

She and Don stay up late, talking about any and everything. Wondering if the Capitol was as amazing as they'd heard. They wind their fingers together – hers dark, like tesserae bread, his milk white – and they arm wrestle. Anything to keep from sleeping.

"We won't be able to do this," Don says, staring at their joined hands. "One of us will be dead."

Janna tightens her grip, looks him in the eye. "Don't worry about what you can't change. Focus on the Games. Focus on right now. And practice your holds," she adds to make him smile. "We won't get very far if you can't hold someone still long enough for me to kill them."

"How about you practice your punches," Don says, their old back and forth. It doesn't matter what waits for them in the Capitol, in the arena. Right now they're together, and they can fall into familiar patterns. They can act like everything's fine.

* * *

They shine like diamonds in their chariot. Janna's been primped and polished to within an inch of her life. Her hair is elaborately coiled about her head with jewels worked into it. She wishes for a brief moment that she'd remembered to cut it, to give her opponents less of a handhold. It's too late now, and the stylists love it. She'll survive.

Don squeezes the life out of her hand.

"Don't be a baby," she hisses between her teeth, not breaking her smile for an instant.

"Shut up; it's just a lot to take in. These outfits are ridiculous."

"Could be worse."

She knows it's not really the outfits, but she doesn't say so. Don is faster than her, stronger than her. When the time comes for them to go at each other, she'll make it easy for him. He has a lot to offer Twelve. She'll die first.

* * *

When she realizes she's pregnant, that's the first time Janna's properly scared. She never should have slept with Tran. She never should have let herself be talked into it.

She didn't want this.

She didn't want to be a mother, didn't want to go into the Games prepared to risk two lives instead of just one. And she knows there was a chance it could come out in the games, could affect her chance at sponsors.

She thinks about Katniss, Woman on Fire. Katniss would burn her to a crisp.

She finds Peeta on the roof – thankfully, alone. He looks stricken. Then he sits down with her, grips her hands so hard they ache. "Are you _sure_?" he asks, wearing a concerned face and an air of fatherly disappointment all at once.

She can't even complain that he wasn't her dad. She just nods, biting her lip.

Katniss doesn't hurt her, doesn't even try. Maybe it was Peeta that smoothed things over, maybe she'd been worried about nothing. Either way, when she comes out of the confession with no marks, she feels some of her old confidence coming back.

* * *

Katniss was right. The crowds love her pregnancy, and they love the idea of her and Don together.

"Is that for real?" Don asks her, when they should have been in bed.

"The baby? Yeah. You mind?"

Don skakes his head. "Not really. It's a good thing it was Tran, I guess. It'll look right."

She raises her eyebrows. "What makes you think they'll get to see it?"

"You've got good odds."

Janna glares. "Don't you dare blow this for me, Don. It doesn't change a thing. You pull your punches at the end, and I'll die just to spite you."

"Jan…"

"No!" She walks up on him, makes sure to get right in his face. He didn't have much height on her, but he knew she wasn't afraid to fight dirty. "Don't you dare hold back, Don. Nothing's changed. I could take you the day before the reaping, and I can take you in the arena. You don't have to shield me, you don't have to protect me, you don't have to _quit_."

"It's not just you anymore, Jan!" Don looks like he's going to cry, but Janna's ready to hit him before she even thinks of backing down. "You think this was easy on me before, knowing I'd have to kill my best friend? This is killing me."

"Do you think I want to die? Dammit, Don, you know why we did this." She takes a deep breath, fists clenched. "When we started this, we promised to give it everything. A promise is a promise; if you hold back on me…" she stops, hating to say it. "If you quit on me, Don? There won't be a Victor."

She doesn't stay to see his reaction. She heads inside.

She won't admit she's crying, even to herself.

* * *

They worked out a plan. Janna sticks to it.

She heads for the weapons. She doesn't take her eye off them the entire time she's waiting for the countdown to end. She's off like a shot. She's a decent runner, and she can dodge like a champion.

She kills three people, straight off the bat. These blades are better than anything she'd practiced with in Twelve.

The arena is a ruined city – rubble tangled together with plant life, the ground full of deep cracks and craters. She picks a direction and sprints, trusting Don to keep up with her. He's big, but he isn't slow.

It takes them a day to meet the tributes from Eight, Eleven, and Three. What's left of them, anyway. The girl from Eleven is dead already, and so is the boy from Three. They managed to grab food, and all of them are armed. Don's got a pair of brass knuckles ready to go, and something a bit bigger looped in his belt.

They settle on a half collapsed house as their base that night. Together, they have two tents, three canteens, and not enough rope.

They don't need to do much searching to find trouble. Trouble finds them.

First is the thick fog coating everything for half the day, every day. They try to stay in somewhere secure when it's out, someplace easily defensible. The second is water, in that there isn't much of it.

Don manages to kill the boy from Two, and he has water on him, so it's definitely around. It's just not in anything obvious – no lakes, no rivers. Not even rain. It's a matter of finding the right building, Janna figures. There are ones with goods stored inside, so it makes sense. It forces them to keep moving.

They split the water, each of them taking small sips. They're a little hungry, but not enough that Janna's worried. She dreams about her mother's awful food at night, wakes up curled tight into Don's side. They've always been close, ever since they were small.

She's going to hate having to kill him, but…. She's glad he's here.

* * *

District One is basically full of assholes, even without the necessary evil of having to kill your allies. If you're going to kill, get it over with. Don't linger.

Janna almost enjoys watching Don beat Male One's face in.

She hugs him when he's done, even though he's got blood everywhere. Female Six is a mercy kill; One did a number on her.

Male One had water. Water's never tasted this sweet to Janna before.

"We'll have a better chance if we split," the pair from Eight says. They let them go, no hard feelings. They see Male Eight two days later in the fog; Janna cuts his throat quick.

* * *

They hit the jackpot as far as water goes, but they don't dare linger. They all take as much as they can carry – fuck food, fuck tents. Water is the most important thing.

They make a bit of a feast out of the last of their food, not that there's much. The water tastes great going down.

They sleep for maybe three hours before the girls from One and Two catch them. They put up a token fight, but all it takes is a look between them for Janna and Don to know that they have to get out. They get in a pretty bad hit on Two's leg, but Three doesn't make it out.

Eleven cries a little for her, and even Don looks a little misty eyed. Janna pushes the loss out of her mind. One less person to worry about, and at least Janna didn't have to kill her. She'll take small favors where she can get them.

The temperature plummets. They sleep close. It feels weird having Eleven so close to her, but Janna pushes the feeling down.

They have the means, but they don't dare light a fire. There's no telling what could follow the light.

When it's down to eight, Janna and Don part ways with Eleven.

"We had a good run together," he says, and "I wish I could've met you somewhere else."

They split supplies evenly and walk in separate directions.

Eight's face appears in the sky that night after Two's. Janna wonders if Eleven is the one that got her. She doesn't have to wonder about Two.

Eleven never got over Three. Janna can understand. If anybody got to Don….

It's going to be her and Don at the end. It has to be.

* * *

The cracks in the ground are moving. Janna almost falls in once when the ground opens up right in front of her. Don barely catches her in time. She can't avoid getting burned by the blast of steam, though: her arm. Fuck.

They waste some of their water on it, and they wrap it up. There's not much else to do. Janna keeps up a litany of swears while Don works on it – she hates everything about it, the pain, the waste of water, the loss of a fighting arm. She hates everything about it, even the way her lost weight makes her stomach stick out more.

Her mentors pull through for her. A burn cream comes riding down on a little parachute.

She thinks of Katniss, who was so dynamic the game makers bent the rules for her, and she pulls herself together.

The next day, Don falls through the floor of a building that can't hold his weight. The drop is barely even a foot.

They stare at each other in disbelief, then Don giggles, and Janna smiles, and suddenly they're laughing _hard_, like it's just another day back in Twelve, like nothing's wrong and later they'll go back to Don's house and wrestle until his parents kick her out. And just that quickly Janna's sobbing like she hasn't in years, collapsing into Don's chest. She hasn't cried this hard since she was seven, when she decided she was going to be stronger than Katniss no matter what her father said or did, no matter how hard things were, no matter how much every bit of her ached.

It feels good to cry, after everything. Don holds her tight, judgment free, and that's what makes it so easy. Don always has her back.

* * *

They find Eleven half buried under a pile of rubble, somehow _not_ dead.

He gives them a weak smile. "I was hoping you'd show up."

They don't ask him what happened; it doesn't matter. Janna slits his throat, holds his hand until his heart stops.

It's good that it was them who found him, and not the sick fuck from One.

Janna throws up, buries the evidence under a pile of leaves. When she comes back, Eleven's body is gone.

"His name was Rye," Don says, staring at the place where the body used to be. "He didn't have any family."

Janna grabs his arm, holds it maybe a little too tight. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Janna pins One to a tree. Both the tributes from Ten are gone – one the same day as Rye, the other…earlier. Sometime. It doesn't matter. One is pinned, and Don swings, misses, hits One's shoulder with a sickening crunch. Janna thinks of Rye, slowly dying under a pile of rubble, and does not flinch. Don swings again. This time his hit is solid. There's a big dent in One's head.

Don stands, panting, with his club in one hand, blood, and gore and everything clinging to it. The cannon goes off.

They smile at each other, breathless, and then the ground starts to move.

Janna reaches for Don without a second's thought. For a single moment his hand is warm in hers, and she thinks "Yes."

Then he's gone. Janna screams, but it's not from the steam that burns her hand and the side of her face, not from the tree that falls and almost takes her with it. Don is gone, dropped into a pit out of nowhere, and she _screams._

* * *

Katniss visits her Victor.

Peeta has been here since she was first lifted out of the arena, sat by her in between surgeries and while she was hopped up on morphling, but Katniss…Katniss stayed away.

She visits her now, already dressed for the ceremony that officially crowns Janna winner.

Janna is curled in bed. Her prep team hasn't gotten to her yet; she's still in her pajamas, looking young and tired. Katniss sits down on the edge of the bed; Janna makes room for her without a word.

For a long moment they don't say anything.

Janna rolls onto her back. "I didn't lose it."

"I'm sorry," Katniss says, and she is. She knows the odds of Janna's child being reaped in time.

"It wasn't supposed to end like that," Janna says. Her voice is soft and broken. Katniss knows that by the time she has to speak in front of a camera again, Janna's voice will be strong and insolent and proud. But for now, Katniss can hear that Janna has been crying, that she wants to cry again. "We were supposed to have one last fight, one last chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Katniss says. It sounds weak to her own ears. There's another long silence. "What are you going to do?"

Janna looks Katniss in the eye, and finally some of her old attitude is coming back to her. "I'm going to raise this kid as a Career."


End file.
